


Broken Soulcaster

by Steris



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Cosmere - Fandom, Shasnah - Fandom, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5019712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steris/pseuds/Steris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to steal a Soulcaster from the palace, a darkeyed thief must become Jasnah Kholin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Air

Shallan stepped into the shadows, shut her eyes, and became nothing. 

Her vision blurred. The stars disappeared, and Salas became a dun sphere on the horizon. It was dangerous to remain in this state for too long, but she still heard voices in the street, shouts and cursings.

Someone glanced into the ruined building where she was hiding. “There's nothing here.”

The voices and footsteps faded down the street.

She still couldn't return to her other form. It wasn't safe yet. Father was still angry, the Highstorm was still raging, and she would be stuck in the house for hours.   
_I'm in Alethkar, in the capital. Father is miles away, and it's a clear night_ , she reminded herself. 

 _Become Shallan_. For some reason, naming what she wanted to become seemed to help her change. The shadows became darker, the moonlight brighter, the night air suddenly cold. She was huddled in the darkness of an abandoned building.

The words she had just said seemed absurd now that her mind was clearer. She didn't have to become Shallan. Whether she was hidden in empty air or disguised with an illusion, she was still herself. Unfortunately.

She hesitated in the doorway, making sure the sapphire pendant she wore was safe beneath her collar and the broken soulcaster was hidden in her sleeve. She couldn't bring herself to walk down the empty street looking like an isolated, defenseless young girl. Not after all the crimes that had been reported around here. Instead, she took the form of an old woman she had seen outside the People's Court. Shallan wouldn't be able to maintain the illusion for long, since she didn't know anything about the homeless woman, except that she was frightened, and that she didn't want to be here. For a few minutes, that was enough.

Shallan walked quickly—too quickly for an elderly woman, but she was running out of time. She was still out in the open air when the illusion of ragged clothes and wrinkled skin faded away.

She paused. Each time it became more difficult to walk through the door of the abandoned building where Meridas was hiding. She could still run away. He said he had someone watching her family, but maybe he was just trying to manipulate her.

“You maintained that illusion for well over a minute. That should be enough time to get past the guards,” Meridas said.

Shallan looked around, surprised to hear him speaking so loudly and standing in the doorway of the building. He was probably trying to remind her that no one could hear them. Without thinking, she put a hand to her necklace.

“Are you trying to draw the attention of the city guards by changing your illusions in public?” he asked.

It wasn't as if anyone could see her. The city watch had abandoned this crumbling district of Alethkar, and besides, Salas was setting, and Nomon had not yet risen. There was only the light of the stars.

After Shallan followed him into the building, Meridas looked at her as if expecting her to answer a question.

“They wouldn't let a beggar into the royal armory," Shallan said.

Meridas kicked the door shut behind them and pulled the cover off a sphere lamp. Despite his abrupt movements, his voice was as calm as always. “I realize that. If your other disguises last for several minutes, why can't you impersonate Princess Jasnah for longer than a second?”

With the toe of her shoe, Shallan traced two overlapping circles on the dusty floor, creating a shape like the center of the double eye of the Almighty. She wasn't sure how to explain her abilities without sounding ignorant and childish. All the words for ideas like this had been in Mother's books, which had been sold before Shallan could finish reading them. 

“The more I have in common with someone, the easier it is to imitate them. That homeless woman seemed frightened. She was muttering something about how dangerous the world is becoming, how she had nowhere to turn.” Shallan stepped into the space where the circles overlapped. “With Jasnah, there's nothing here. She's a princess, educated, beautiful, and brilliant. I'm a darkeyed servant.”

“I might believe that if I hadn't seen you disappear into thin air. Are you implying that it's easier to become nothing than to disguise yourself as Jasnah?”

“It makes sense, in a way. All of us become smoke and ashes in the end, but no darkeyes has ever turned into a princess. Besides, it's different from my other disguises. Turning into another essence requires an actual change of form, not just an illusion.” Shallan cringed at her own words. She'd let herself sound too confident, too certain.

Meridas sighed. Unlike most people Shallan knew, he never swore when he was angry. “Can't you just become invisible and steal the Soulcaster?”

Shallan didn't want Meridas to know that she couldn't move when she was invisible, could barely even see or think. “It doesn't work that way. I can't move the Soulcaster when I'm in that form."

“I'm beginning to think you're just making excuses, Shallan.”

“If you want a Soulcaster, I could easily rob an ardent or a rural lighteyes. I just don't understand why I have to steal from the most powerful family in the world."

“It seems your sense of patriotism surpasses even your loyalty to your own family. Or do you think the Kholins will spare you if you betray us?”

“No! I'm just saying this is a complicated plan. I need more time to learn about Brightness Jasnah.”

“There's not much time left. Jasnah Kholin will be leaving the capital soon, and taking the Soulcaster with her.”

Shallan wanted to ask why they didn't just steal the Soulcaster then, but she didn't want to bring up the topic. Meridas always became angry when she asked questions.

"It would appear that paying off your father's debts has not motivated you to complete this task, and that's understandable. I suspect you need a more immediate incentive." He opened the door to a side room. “Kabsal!”

Shallan saw someone moving in the dimly lit room. A bearded man dragged her brother Balat through the doorway and threw him to the ground at their feet. Balat's face was bruised and bleeding, and his hands were tied behind his back.

Shallan rushed forward, but Meridas caught her by the arm.  

“Tell her what happened,” Kabsal said, speaking with a slight Herdazian accent.

“They killed Father, Shallan. They said they wouldn't hurt us unless we tried to fight them, but you know how Father gets when he's angry. He said he'd lived all his life as a free man, and he wouldn't die as a slave and prisoner.”

Shallan covered her face with her free hand. Her brothers were going to die because of her. There was no way she'd ever be able to impersonate Jasnah in the time they had given. She had already failed.

“Don't feign emotion over the death of that old fool,” Meridas said. “He's the one who sold you, after all.”

“Jushu and Wickim?” Shallan asked, looking at Balat.

Meridas held up the sphere lamp and motioned towards two figures huddled in the corner of the second room. “They're here, too. Bring the Soulcaster to us on the first night of next month. We'll be watching for any signs of treachery. If anyone so much as approaches this building, your brothers will die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Undertext: I have changed the magic system so that it's more like Soulforging. There are no spren in this AU. Events occur about a year after Gavilar's death.
> 
> Meridas is not the same person as Amaram.


	2. Smoke

Shallan sat on a bench between two trees that had been imported from Shinovar. This wasn't her fault. Not entirely. She shredded a soft leaf from one of the trees.

_She returned from the lait, dripping with rain and coughing, but anything was better than being trapped inside during the Weeping. The windows of the house were dark, and the door was open. She thought she heard Father shouting something, but she couldn't make out the words. He had probably hoped she was gathering roots, and was angry that she'd returned empty-handed. She tried to slip back into the darkness, but Balat ran out into the rain._

_“Shallan! Come back! Father wants to speak with you.”_

_She turned to run._

_“Helaran is dead,” Balat shouted after her._

_Helaran was going to win them wealth and honor and glory and a name for their house. He couldn't be dead._

_Shallan stood motionless in the rain until Balat took her hand and led her into the house. “We just found out. He died fighting a Parshendi Shardbearer.”_

_Inside the house, Father was shouting that they were ruined, that Balat and Jushu and Wickim would be conscripted to pay their debts. They were all weakling who couldn't fight, and they wouldn't last a week as bridgemen in Brightlord Sadeas's army._

_Shallan tried to block out his angry words. Instinctively, she reached for her sapphire pendant, forgetting that it was out of stormlight._

_Father grabbed the necklace, breaking the chain. “We've lost everything, and you won't be parted from that worthless trinket.”_

_Shallan reached for the sapphire as it slipped from the chain, but Father picked it up and threw it to the ground, then stepped in front of Shallan as she tried to crawl after it. The necklace was the only thing of Mother's he'd let her keep. The gem held Stormlight better than any sphere, almost enough to last through the weeping. Almost._

_“It's not worthless,” Shallan said. She told them about the illusions she'd been practicing, the disguises she had planned. She had always known she use her abilities to become a thief, but it was only a daydream, something she thought Father would forbid as dangerous and dishonorable._

_Instead, her plan worked all too well. She had been a good thief, able to imitate—not anyone, but most people, at least for a minute, able to turn invisible, to avoid being captured. But Father hadn't been content to pay off their debts. He had boasted of their new wealth, something Shallan feared would draw the attention of the authorities. Something far worse had happened._

This was his fault for telling Meridas or whoever he worked for about Shallan's abilities. If she hadn't become a thief, her family would be starving or enslaved.

As opposed to hostages or dead.

Now, spheres clinked in the lining of her clothes. She couldn't believe how much Stormlight there was in Alethkar, freely available. That day in the rain, she had thought she couldn't live another day without light, without the ability to hide and disguise herself. It was worth becoming a thief. 

“There you are, Brightness Shallan. I've been looking everywhere for you!” Laran said.

Shallan lifted her face from her hands to see the master-servant standing over her. She began to reach for her necklace, but kept her hand still with an effort. If she vanished now, the whole plan would be ruined, and her brothers would die.

“I'm sorry, Mistress Laran. I was just taking a rest.”

“You're supposed to rest at night, but it seems you haven't been doing so. I hear you've been sneaking out. Where have you been going?”

Shallan searched for a plausible lie, but her mind was going blank. “I thought we were allowed to leave the palace after work. The other maids do.”

“That's because they don't sleep the day away!” Laran caught Shallan by the arms and lifted her to her feet. “If I catch you moping around when you're supposed to be working, I'll have you thrown out onto the street where you belong.”

Even though Shallan didn't let herself disappear, her thoughts still slipped away. She had failed. There was no way she could save her brothers now.

_There were two meanings to the word broken. One was damaged, flawed, cracked. The other was unable to function as expected. People didn't necessarily mind if you were the first kind of broken, as long as you could do what they wanted you to. There were statues in the palace that were flawed, but that just showed how ancient and valuable they were. On the other hand, the Soulcaster she carried looked the same as a normal one, but it was considered worthless, just because it didn't function as expected._

“She's just faking it to make us feel sorry for her, Your Brightness.”

_Don't argue with him, Helaran. It will only make things worse._

“A blood sickness is surprisingly difficult to feign, Mistress Laran.”

Shallan looked up. The voice was a woman's, not Helaran's. The person who had stepped between her and Laran was wearing a glove, not on her sleeved safehand, but on her right hand. Something glittered beneath, fine chains and glowing spheres. Oh, Almighty. It was a Soulcaster.

“....emotional stress is often a trigger for these episodes, Mistress Laran. I have devoted considerable study to their treatment and prevention,” Brightness Jasnah said.

“Begging your pardon, Brightness, but she's a spoiled brat who faints every time someone raises their voice at her.”

“Is that a sign of being spoiled, in your experience?” Jasnah asked.

“Well, she acts like a Brightlady. I'll wager her parents sent her to the capital to net herself a one-eye, if you'll forgive my language.”

“I will chose to overlook your vulgar insinuations for now, Mistress Laran. Shallan will not be dismissed from her employment here without my permission. She should be allowed sufficient time to recover from these episodes.”

Laran lingered for a moment, as if she wanted to get the last word with Shallan, but Jasnah watched until she left.

Shallan still felt shaky and weak. She sank down on the bench, hoping it wasn't a terrible breach of etiquette to sit down without the princess's permission.

“Have you see a doctor about these symptoms?” It took Shallan a moment to realize that Jasnah was speaking to her.

“No, your Brightness. I'm not really ill. It's just that my mind seems to wander sometimes.” Storms take it, she'd spoken too quickly. Now Jasnah would think she was unable to work here.

“Perhaps I can find an ardent who isn't one of the ten fools. On second thought, my mother's scholars would probably use you to test some new theory. Don't let them give you anything other than bitterleaf.”

Shallan felt her face getting hot. She'd drawn far too much attention to herself. “Um, thank you, your Brightness.” She stood. “I'm fine now. Really. I should get back to work.”

Jasnah still looked thoughtful. “If that woman keeps bullying you, or if your symptoms become worse, please tell me.”

“Yes, your Brightness. Thank you.” Shallan curtsied awkwardly, then hurried away, thoughts racing. Storms take it all. Everything was ruined. Did Jasnah suspect her? She had sounded sincere, but maybe she had some hidden motivation for intervening. Some sort of feud with Laran, or with bullies in general? Curiosity about Shallan's apparent illness? She _had_ said she was researching blood sicknesses.

Shallan paced the hallway until she felt calmer. If the princess was really curious about her, perhaps she could use that to her own advantage. After all, she did need to learn more about Jasnah for the illusion to work.

 

 

Ashara and Hana, who usually cleaned Jasnah's bedchamber, had the night off. No one stopped Shallan as she walked into the empty rooms. 

She tried to fill the time tidying up, even though the place was already spotless, then gave up and filled the bathtub with hot water. The Queen Mother was testing running water in parts of the palace, but Shallan heated the water over the fire and carried it to the tub just as she had done back at home.

She wondered where Jasnah had gone, and why she'd been wearing her Soulcaster. She'd heard that the princess sometimes Soulcast food for the poor, much to the chagrin of the ardents, who didn't think arcane powers should be used openly. But the donations would be collected tomorrow, not late at night.

Shallan paused in front of the mirror. It wasn't as if she had anything in common with Jasnah. It had been kind of the princess to intervene, but she could do so without consequences, something Shallan couldn't even imagine.

Still, it was worth a try.

 _Become Jasnah_. For a moment, as if illuminated by a flash of lightning, she saw herself as everything she was not, tall and beautiful, with pure black hair and light violet eyes. Then she was Shallan again, a gawky rural drudge with dark eyes and red-speckled hair. As she looked into the mirror, wondering if she should try the illusion again, something moved in the corner of her eye.

Shallan hadn't heard the door open. Surely Jasnah would have reacted if she'd seen the illusion.

 _Anyone might pause to look in the mirror._ Shallan turned around slowly, smoothing her skirt. “Would you like me to draw you a bath, your Brightness?”

“It appears that you already have,” Jasnah said. A single curl had come loose from her usually perfect hairstyle. She held the lock of hair to her nose, in an absent motion.

Shallan noticed a scent like burning oil, or...Storms. It almost smelled like a funeral pyre. Where had Jasnah been?

_Don't let yourself babble. Either tell the truth and ask for her help, or find more information._

Jasnah began pulling pins from her hair, expression distant. Eyes like dun spheres, is what mother's books would have said.

“Would you like any help with that, Your Brightness?”

“I can manage on my own. Thank you, Shallan.” The handful of pins and combs clattered to the dressing table.

Shallan tried to find the words that could bridge the space between them. Jasnah would probably be angry if she learned Shallan was a thief right after she had defended her from Laral, and she seemed too exhausted for normal conversation. She hadn't even asked about Shallan's health, which had interested her before.

Jasnah stepped behind a painted screen, unbuttoning the collar of her havah. She glanced over her shoulder, seeming surprised that Shallan was still there. “You are dismissed.”

“Oh! Yes, your Brightness.” Shallan felt her face growing hot. She had failed again. If she'd picked a better time, maybe she could have obtained some useful information, instead of making herself look foolish by standing around without knowing what to do.

 

As Shallan made her way down the hall to the servants' quarters, she heard Mistress Laran shouting. She dodged into an unoccupied room, hoping Jasnah's intervention hadn't made the Master-servant's temper even worse than before.

For once, Laran was arguing with someone else. Ashara and Hana were speaking loudly, talking over each other.

“It isn't just a rumor this time! We're the ones she saved."

“The one she touched turned into fire. The others tried to flee, but lightning shot out from her hands and turned them into pillars of smoke."

“If you expect me to believe this wild story—“

“Can't you smell the burning flesh on our clothes?” Ashara said.

Laran fell silent for once. “Well. This had better not be a trick. I hope you realize that there won't always be an eleventh Herald around to protect girls who can't keep themselves out of trouble.”

Shallan held her breath. _The one she touched turned into fire._

She shut the door of the empty room, heart racing. She didn't know how Soulcasters worked, since Meridas hadn't answered her questions. Her best guess was that if you touched something while wearing a Soulcaster, you could change it into one of the ten essences. Air, smoke, fire, and so on.

It should have been obvious. Meridas had a refined way of speaking, more like an ardent than a common thief. Kabsal's hair had been stubble, as if he had kept it shaved up until recently. Not only that, but they had produced a realistic-looking Soulcaster. They'd claimed their client had broken it and needed it replaced, but the story had seemed too convoluted. Ardents would have access to Soulcasters, so that they could easily tamper with one in a way that Jasnah wouldn't notice. Not until she was out in the dark of night, alone except for her enemies and the people she was trying to protect.

The ardents who had passed through Shallan's hometown, gathering donations and elevating callings, had seemed stern but sincere enough. Shallan didn't want to think the Almighty would let the people who represented him become so corrupt. It was too much like what Jasnah believed, that the Almighty didn't exist at all. But it fit with what she'd seen of Alethkar. Laran had laughed when Shallan asked her where to donate food on the days the ardents gathered supplies for the poor. They liked their donations in spheres, the larger the better. If you gave them food, they'd just let it rot in a garbage heap somewhere.

 _Almighty, please let me be wrong._ But even if most ardents were sincere, Jasnah had political enemies. Hadn't her father, King Gavilar, been killed by a Shin assassin who was working for the Parshendi? Someone could have convinced a few disgruntled ardents to switch out Jasnah's Soulcaster for a broken one. If Shallan went along with their plan, she'd be guilty of Jasnah Kholin's death. But if she told the truth, Meridas and Kabsal would probably kill her brothers when the guards went to arrest them. Shallan had always felt guilty that she had a way of escape that wasn't available to her brothers. She might risk her own life to tell the truth, but she couldn't doom them as well.

 _Almighty send that she didn't have to chose._ There had to be a way she could save them all. Not just her brothers and Jasnah, but all the people Jasnah was trying to protect. Shallan closed her eyes, feeling as if there was something she should remember.

Tomorrow was the day the ardents gathered donations for the poor, the one time Jasnah would use her Soulcaster openly. If Shallan made the switch immediately, Jasnah would discover the Soulcaster was a fake in broad daylight, when she was surrounded by people.

And Shallan would have a Soulcaster that worked. The assassins obviously didn't think she could figure out how to use the stolen Soulcaster.

 _The one she touched turned into fire._ Was Soulcasting really so different from what Shallan did, turning herself into air? Maybe she could do the same thing to Meridas and Kabsal, trapping them in some other realm, or some other form.

Shallan took a broom and swept two overlapping circles into the patterned rug. She knelt in the space between.

Pure black hair and speckled red.

Light violet eyes and dark brown.

Tall and beautiful and short and scrawny.

Educated and ignorant.

Atheist and devout Vorin.

Princess and servant.

She took off her necklace and twisted it around in her hands. She had been willing to risk everything for this little gem, a worthless trinket compared to the treasures of the palace. She couldn't live without using this power, not even for a Weeping.

Ever since her brothers had been captured, she'd been blaming herself for her decision to become a thief. She had been foolish and impulsive. She'd lied and broken the law and gotten involved in something far too complicated for her. But in a way, Jasnah, who was known for her brilliance and learning, had done the same thing. Whether it was a necklace or a Soulcaster, they couldn't let these powers go to waste. They did what was necessary to protect the people they cared about. Even if it was difficult and dangerous.

 _Become Jasnah._ A Soulcaster appeared on her hand, like the one she had glimpsed beneath Jasnah's glove.

Shallan looked at herself in the dark mirror of the spare room. The illusion remained in place until she dispelled it, something that had never happened before.

For a moment, she wanted to run to the armory and steal the Soulcaster, but it was too late now that the whole palace knew Jasnah had retired for the night. She would have to wait until morning.

 

The guards at the door to the palace armory bowed to Shallan. She tried to channel her nervousness into a stiff, haughty expression, even though she knew that wasn't Jasnah.

“You're here early, Your Brightness,” one of the guards said.

Shallan didn't trust her voice, so she just nodded to him. She hoped they wouldn't hear the ill-fitting shoes she had stolen clicking as she walked around. She still wasn't as tall as Jasnah, even with the heels.

She looked around the room. Almighty help her, how would she find the Soulcaster? Of course, most of weapons and armor owned by the royal family had been taken to the Shattered Plains, but many other treasures were still stored here. 

The guards watched her, already suspicious.

Light glinted off a stone statue. Was that one of the Heralds, wearing a real Soulcaster? It was an odd image, but perhaps it held some hidden meaning for Jasnah. Shallan walked up to the statue and removed the Soulcaster. She turned her back to the guards and held the Soulcaster close as if she were inspecting it or replacing a sphere. After slipping the broken one out of her sleeve, she placed it on the statue's arm.

The guards kept watching as she walked away, but they didn't stop her.

She kept looking for somewhere to change back into Shallan, into any form but this. The palace was busy, with servants and guards everywhere. Even the street was crowded with people going to work.

No one was following her, but she noticed an ardent walking ahead of her, carrying a large bag. He glanced around as if hoping no one would notice him, and upon seeing her, scuttled into a courtyard between buildings.

The ardent returned from the courtyard. He looked horrified as he saw Jasnah was watching him.

The air carried a scent of decay. For a moment, Shallan wondered if the place was full of dead bodies, then she remembered what Laran had said about the ardents leaving donated food in a garbage heap. Even though Shallan wanted to run away, she knew that was the last thing Jasnah Kholin would ever do. She stepped forward, looking past the ardent to the courtyard full of rotting food.

“The Queen's orders, Your Brightness. She said we were to leave all the, um, superfluous donations here.”

“If you do not fear the Almighty, who you claim has power over your eternal soul, I'm not sure why you find my sister-in-law so intimidating. Still, if you must dispose of this food, carry it outside the city. If these rotting heaps are still here when I return—“ She touched a gray gemstone on the Soulcaster, intending it as an empty threat. The scent of decay suddenly became stronger, almost as if she could hear as well as smell it. Quiet, pleading voices asking her to do something.

 _Become smoke._ Bolts of lightning shot from her hand, striking the heaps of rotting food, which turned into pillars of smoke.

“Do I make myself clear?” Shallan asked.

There was nothing left of the food but some greasy ashes. Instead of being angry, the ardent just looked frightened. Almighty help her, she hadn't even thought about imitating Jasnah's voice, but he was apparently too distracted by the way she'd just shot lightning from her hand to notice.

With this power, you could change yourself. With this power, you could change the world.

She would start by killing Meridas.


	3. Fire

Shallan walked to the outskirts of the city in her own form, with the Soulcaster hidden beneath her long sleeve.

The plumes of smoke had probably drawn attention. She'd behaved impulsively, but at least she knew she could Soulcast. Perhaps it was a sign from the Almighty, telling her that she was meant to do this.

Meridas opened the door of the building, looking wary.

“Shallan? You weren't supposed to—"

Shallan lifted her free hand and pushed back her sleeve, revealing the Soulcaster. She touched one of the gems. 

 _Become smoke_ , she thought.

Nothing happened.

Meridas dove for her arm, shouting for Kabsal.

Shallan vanished before he reached her.

_She had been a fool. Her first taste of power had made her impulsive and overconfident._

_Still, the Soulcaster had worked before. What had she done wrong? It probably mattered which of the gemstones you touched—after all, she could only disappear when she was wearing a sapphire. Maybe you had to be touching something to transform it, although that hadn't been the case with the piles of food._

_Or perhaps it was something more abstract. To create an illusion, you had to understand what something was. To transform something, you had to know what it wanted to become. The rotting food had wanted to decay. It had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. Most things wanted exist, even inanimate objects. Most people wanted to live._

_She wondered what would happen to the Soulcaster if she kept it here with her until she faded into nothing. There was no way they would let her brothers live, not now._

“Kabsal!” Meridas shouted. “Bring one of the hostages!”

The bearded man dragged one of her brothers into the room—Shallan's vision was fading, but she guessed it was Balat, whose quick temper had always gotten him in trouble.

Looking towards the place where Shallan had disappeared, Meridas ran a knife along her brother's hand. With her limited vision, Shallan thought it was only a idle threat, until she heard screams of pain. It was Wickim's voice this time. Shallan had always told him he was smart enough to become an ardent, had promised she would help him study glyphs and mathematics after she had taught herself. For some reason, the thought that he might never be able to write bothered her more than all of their deaths.

_Become Shallan._

She flinched away as Kabsal removed the Soulcaster from her hand.

Meridas let Wickim fall to the floor. “Shallan, you promised you would bring us the Soulcaster on the first day of next month. Instead, you chose to steal it on the one day Jasnah Kholin plans to use it in public. For your failure, you will watch your brothers die.”

He nodded to Kabsal, who placed his hand on Wickim's head and touched one of the gemstones on the Soulcaster.

Nothing happened.

Kabsal examined the Soulcaster for a moment, and then threw it to the floor. “It's a storming fake. She must be in league with Jasnah. Probably led the guards to us.”

“You will still watch your brothers die, Shallan. It will just take longer, this way," Meridas said.

“We don't have time,” Kabsal said. “Just kill them and be done with it.”

Shallan moved towards the fallen Soulcaster. This couldn't be happening. She could still save them somehow. She reached it before Kabsal did, but what good was a broken Soulcaster? She could use the infused spheres to create an illusion, but that wouldn't save them now.

"What in the Almighty's tenth name!" Kabsal cursed.

Shallan looked up just in time to see the door melt into a pool of blood.

Guards rushed into the room, followed by Brightness Jasnah, who wore a Soulcaster on her hand.

“We have hostages,” Meridas said, holding the knife to Wickim's throat. 

In the distance, as if someone were speaking in another room, Shallan heard Jasnah's voice.

 _Become smoke._ Two bolts of lightning shot from Jasnah's hand, turning Kabsal and Meridas to smoke. Wickim fell to the ground, coughing.

The guards moved towards Shallan, but Jasnah motioned them away.

 _Become fire._ The voice was as clear as if Jasnah had spoken aloud, even though her lips hadn't moved. She was looking at Shallan.

And in that moment, Shallan knew that this was what she had always wanted.

She wasn't burning. She simply turned into fire, casting a bright glow on the faces of her brothers in the next room and reflecting off the guard's polished armor.

She heard Balat cursing. “Storms take you, Brightness! It wasn't her fault! Father sold her to pay our debts!”

“Please, your Brightness, it was just Father and Shallan! The rest of us were only hostages!” Jushu whimpered.

“Your sister conspired to rob the royal palace,” Jasnah said. “That is a crime of treason as well as theft. Your family's house and lands will become property of the crown. I imagine that only means I will be assuming responsibility for your debts.” _And your creditors_ , Shallan heard her add.

The glow gradually diminished, either because Shallan's vision was fading, or because there was nothing left to fuel the fire. She had thought she was going to float away like a burned prayer, but she was still trapped, unable to move. Just like before. Just like always.

 _Become smoke_ , Shallan told herself. _Become air_. 

“Guards, take these others away while I search the building for any possible indications of who these thieves were working for.” Jasnah's voice was rushed, not like her usual tone, but the guards still obeyed her.

Jasnah knelt on the floor where Shallan had been. As before, her lips didn't move, but Shallan could hear her voice. “The Ghostbloods wouldn't let you live after you betrayed them. It's best that they think you're dead. You are talented with disguises. If you join my mother's ardents when they leave for the Shattered Plains, you can wear a fake Soulcaster. It will give you a chance to use your powers openly.”

 _I can't soulcast,_ Shallan thought. _I failed to kill Meridas and Kabsal._

“Soulcasting always begins with reforging yourself,” Jasnah said. “Return to this realm as soon as I leave. If you don't, you'll fade away.”

Jasnah stood. “There's nothing here. As far as I can tell, these were just petty thieves who were foolish enough to think they could rob the palace. Talak, file a report...." Jasnah continued speaking as she left the room, so that the remaining guards had to follow her.

Shallan thought she heard Wickim crying as the guards led her brothers away. She hoped Jasnah would tell them the truth about what had happened to her, but perhaps the truth didn't exist yet.

 _Become Shallan_ , she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Undertext: I was originally going to make Jasnah a Skybreaker in this AU. It probably shows here.


End file.
